


Bemused!

by mongoose_bite



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Muses, Writer's Block
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6594523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mongoose_bite/pseuds/mongoose_bite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an artist struggles with his art, sometimes Fate takes pity on him, and sends him a muse.</p><p>Whether he wants one or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea in my head for over a year, and I eventually had to write it out.

Levi had started writing as a way to fill the lonely hours of the night when sleep eluded him, and somewhere along the way it had turned into a modest career of sorts. His dark, slightly surreal novels, written in a crude vernacular style that entertained a certain subset of students at campuses across the country, paid the rent on his townhouse and allowed him the luxury of eschewing a day job as long as he was careful.

Occasionally, his books would appear as a set text.

Not that this was any sort of comfort in the early morning hours when both sleep and words eluded him and time seemed to stretch on like tasteless taffy. He sat at the dining room table, his laptop perfectly aligned on the polished wooden surface, a thermos of black, unsweetened tea next to the cup at his elbow. He always wrote with the curtains closed, lest the odd passing car distract him, and the lights off save for a lamp.

It was quiet. Perfect writing conditions, and Levi had given up on sleep long since, so there was no reason for this fingers to be still on the keyboard.

Yet the words wouldn’t come. His publisher was expecting a new draft soon, and Levi had written most of it, but he suspected that it wasn’t very good. He’d hovered over the delete key all evening.

It was lifeless, and probably boring, he thought, as he reread the last few paragraphs. He should fix that sentence, but honestly what was the point? He’d be better off brainstorming an excuse for his publisher than trying to salvage it.

He let his head fall forward and wondered why he put himself through this. Were his previous jobs really that much worse?

Well, yes. At least no one was trying to hit him or was vomiting on his shoes.

His eyes were burning and at this late hour it wasn’t unknown for strange things to happen in the corner of his vision, so he didn’t really pay attention when he sensed the curtains ripple out of the corner of his eye.

He did when the distortion coalesced into a large white blob. He lifted his eyes from the screen, blinking, his brain refusing to process the fact that there was what appeared to be a young man floating on his ceiling. A man wearing a, well, a toga really. Certainly some sort of white cloth artfully draped around his body and held in place by mysterious means.

It was hard to see in the gloom and Levi squeezed his eyes shut a moment.

When he reopened them, the man was still there.

“I’m finally fucking losing it,” Levi said, his voice rusty with disuse.

The apparition, who had been looking around the room, focused on Levi and very clearly floated a bit closer, and it smiled.

“Hi.”

Great, the hallucination came with sound as well. Levi waited until it was within arm’s reach and then he abruptly stood up and made a grab for it. It flinched in surprise and floated up out of reach, hovering near the light fittings.

Levi scowled.

His visitor looked apprehensive. “Don’t look at me like that, please. I’m your muse. I’m Eren.” He spread his hands in what Levi assumed was a placating gesture. “I’m here to help you, Levi.”

“How do you know my name?” He didn’t feel right sitting down again, so he stayed standing, craning his neck and berating himself for actually having a conversation with this thing.

He looked so real though. His skin was quite dark, and he looked pretty young. And just pretty. Even in the low light his eyes were a strange shade of green. His hair was rather unkempt but it looked clean, and his toga was spotless. If Levi’s subconscious was going to torment him with imagined ghosts, he wouldn’t have expected them to be so pleasant to look at.

“Why wouldn’t I know your name?”

“Traditionally, muses are supposed to be beautiful women,” Levi pointed out, ignoring the question.

“Well, I can’t help that.” He was almost pouting. “I’m the one who has to help you, so I guess it’s your fault.”

“That you’re not a woman?”

“That I’m here at all. You’re stuck, aren’t you? I’m here to unstick you. We can do this!” He clenched his fist in determination.

“Uh huh, and how are you going to do that?”

“Well,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not entirely sure. Do you feel inspired by looking at me?”

“I feel like I’m getting a headache.”

Eren drifted closer, looking concerned, but he was still well out of reach.

“Stay here,” Levi said, and to his surprise, Eren obeyed.

This was ridiculous, he thought. He just needed to dispel the illusion and then maybe he should think about trying to get some sleep, although he’d managed a reasonable amount the previous night; it shouldn’t be so bad already that he was seeing things.

He opened the cleaning cupboard and grabbed a broom before heading back to the dining room. Without giving any warning he vaulted up onto the table and swatted at the apparition.

“Hey!” To his annoyance, Eren ducked out of the way, and he jabbed at him again. “What are you doing?”

“Out!” Levi said. “I don’t want to be haunted.”

“I’m not haunting you, I’m inspiring you. Ahh that tickles!” Eren wrapped his arms around himself to protect his ribs as Levi jabbed at him, although he couldn’t feel the broom touching anything solid, except when he accidentally hit the light fixture.

Despite the prodding, Eren refused to budge, staying up near the ceiling and giggling and complaining about being tickled while Levi tried to sweep him away.

Naturally it was at that point that Hange let themselves in the front door and clattered into the room.

“Levi! Are yo-”

Levi froze. Eren froze too, looking at the newcomer with wide eyes.

Hange cocked their head to the side. “What are you doing?”

Levi glanced at Eren and back at Hange. Hange was weird but presumably they would have said _something_ if they’d noticed the youth floating on the ceiling.

“Getting rid of cobwebs,” Levi said.

“Oh.” Hange didn’t look remotely surprised.

He lowered his broom. “Why are you here? It’s the middle of the night.”

Hange looked at him for a long moment. “Levi, it's nine-thirty.” They walked to the window and pulled open the curtains, sunlight splashing into the room, dazzling. “And we have a meeting, remember?”

Levi was still standing on the table, and he lowered his broom, trying to recalibrate his sense of time.

“Have you been up all night? You must have been really inspired, huh.” Hange came around to look at Levi's screen and he slammed the lid of his laptop down with his foot before they could get close.

“I.” Levi sighed and hopped down off the table. What could he say? Maybe he should just apologise and scrap the whole thing.

“Give it a chance,” Eren said, suddenly right behind his ear. It took all of Levi's self control not to turn and try and grab him again. Hange was already looking at him with concern and the last thing he needed was for them to decide he needed cheering up, or worse, to meet new people. “I'll do my best,” Eren promised.

“I think I need another week,” Levi heard himself saying. “Can you do that?”

“Of course,” Hange smiled. “But I really think you should get some sleep for now.”

“I agree,” Eren said. “You need to rest.”

The thought of going back to his bedroom made him feel indescribably depressed, but he simply said, “Fine, but I can't sleep with you poking about, so out.” He practically pushed Hange out the door, regretting he'd given them the key that one time he'd had the flu.

“I'll see you in a week,” Hange called, as Levi shut the door.

Getting rid of Eren was another matter.

He was still sort of floating, but at a more normal height. The sunlight didn't make him look any less real; it gleamed off his hair and shone on his eyes, and he cast a shadow on the polished wooden floor.

“So are you going to leave me in peace as well?” Levi asked.

“I won't be a bother,” Eren said, which wasn't the answer Levi was hoping for. “Why don't you make something to eat before trying to sleep? Maybe some tea as well.”

“Will you stop floating?” Levi asked. “It's really unnerving.”

“Oh. Sure.” Eren put his feet down on the floor, and followed Levi into the kitchen. His feet didn't make any sound, but he seemed ever more real now he wasn’t obviously breaking the laws of gravity.

Levi collected his cup and thermos from the dining room and went to make some breakfast. Eren kept out of his way, instead examining the room, and gazing out the windows. It was like having a cat.

“You don't have to go to bed,” Eren said suddenly, when Levi was washing up his breakfast things. “I mean, you could just sit and rest.”

“I don't have to do anything,” Levi pointed out.

“You said you'd give me a chance,” Eren said. “So you should at least try my suggestions.”

“I never said that. Will you just fuck off?” he snapped. “Whatever sort of thing you are.”

“Well, yes of course, if you want me to go.” He looked absolutely crestfallen as he disappeared down through the floor.

Levi blinked. That was easier than expected.

In the end he flopped down in an armchair and started reading, and when he woke up it was mid afternoon. Eren hadn't reappeared. Well, good.

Levi went for a run and checked his emails and made dinner, and if nothing else the whole business had taken his mind off his writer's block for a while. What a weird experience, he thought.

He was in the shower when Eren stuck his head through the tiled wall.

“This is a great idea,” he said, as Levi yelped with surprise. “You get lots of good ideas in the shower.”

“What the fuck?” Levi moved to hide himself behind the shower curtain as Eren drifted further out of the wall.

“I should be naked too, right?” He certainly looked naked, as acres of tanned torso appeared through the wall.

“Out!” Levi made to push him but Eren was already receding out of reach.

“Okay, I'll wait outside! Good luck.”

“Fuck me,” Levi mumbled, once Eren had apparently gone. So it hadn't been some sort of hallucination induced by sleep deprivation. He rushed through the rest of his shower, and once he was decent again he went in search of his uninvited guest.

He found Eren in the dining room, looking at the books on the shelf down one end. He was, thankfully, dressed again.

“What are you?” Levi asked.

“I told you, I'm a muse.”

“So you do this a lot? You seem pretty crap at it.”

“No. I'm your muse, so I’ve not done this before.”

“What does that mean?” Levi asked.

“It means.” Eren paused to think. “It means I really like your work. I get it.”

“Do you now?” Levi folded his arms.

Eren smiled, proud like a kid beginning a recital. “Yeah. The main character is you, right? I mean, not exactly, but in a way. You're an autobiographical writer, even if your books are still fiction.”

“I was just writing to fill in the hours,” Levi said. “Just putting down what it was like.”

“You write about living through hard, dirty things, and what your publisher keeps saying is magic realism is just realism. Sure, stuff happens that's impossible, but it's only slightly impossible; you've seen it.”

Eren wasn't looking at him, he was looking somewhere else, focused. “There's not a lot of plot, because living through that feels directionless, but this new book.” Eren frowned. “You wanted to focus more, but you feel that you've make it lifeless, but you don't want to keep writing the same thing over and over either.”

Levi stared at him. “So what do I do?” he asked.

Eren smiled, a bit shy. “You have to decide that. But I'll help.”

Levi sank into a chair, feeling something like relief. Real or not, to hear what he'd been feeling put into words was indescribably comforting. Eren perched on the end of the table and they sat in silence for a while.

“You know what I really like about your work?” Eren asked. “I find it reassuring.”

Levi raised his eyebrows. He'd never been given _that_ feedback before.

“I like your protagonists. It's nice to think that there are people like that out there, wandering in the dark. I know most of your readers like, want to identify with them, because they're kind of cool, too. I guess I'd like to be like that a bit, but, I'd like to meet them more. I guess I have!” Eren turned to look at him. “I've met you.”

“Uh. I'm not very. Uh.”

“You don't have to be,” Eren rocked back and swung his legs. “I get it.”

“Let's go for a walk,” Levi said, because he'd had enough of talking for now.

“Yeah.” Eren stood up eagerly.

“All right, I'll get my coat. Could you maybe wear something a bit more normal? Aren't you cold?” Was that a stupid question?

Eren shrugged. “Not really cold, but I'll think of something.”

Levi went to put his shoes on and when he came back downstairs Eren was waiting for him by the front door, wearing an outfit Levi was pretty sure he remembered describing in his first novel; the jeans and shirt weren’t particularly memorable, but the long coat was familiar.

They ambled out onto the street, and Eren didn't say anything. Levi kept his mouth shut as well; talking to himself in his house was one thing, but he wasn't going to start addressing thin air in public.

Walking at night was familiar, walking with someone else was new. Eren's feet didn't make any sound, but his presence felt real; Levi could almost convince himself he cut the wind, that he could feel the weight of Eren's gaze, that he was warm.

They walked for an hour or so, and Levi realised he was tired. When he swung himself up onto a night bus Eren followed without comment and sat next to him as they rode home.

“I'm going to bed,” Levi said, when he shut the door behind them. He couldn’t even think about working when he could barely keep his eyes open. “I guess I won't get any writing done tonight.”

“Mm,” Eren tilted his head. “I think you made progress. How do you feel about it?”

Levi thought. “Something's missing,” he said. “The plot's not working because there's no foundation for it. That's why the whole thing doesn't work.”

Eren smiled, “You should sleep.”

“What are you going to do? Where did you go this morning?”

“Your basement. It's very tidy.”

Levi sighed. “Yeah, thanks. Okay, look, you can hang out wherever just don't bother me in the shower. Or watch me sleep.”

“Got it. Goodnight, Levi.”

“Goodnight, Eren.”

Unused to sleeping that early, Levi woke with the sun. When he wandered downstairs he found Eren curled up in his armchair, apparently fast asleep. He'd gone back to wearing his toga, and Levi had the urge to straighten it out where it was falling off Eren's shoulder.

Whether or not he really existed, he supposed living with him wasn't going to be a great hardship.

Eren woke up while Levi was making breakfast, and tumbled in, hair askew, to apologise for not waking up earlier.

“Do you want some tea?” Levi asked.

“No,” Eren shook his head, and tried to comb his hair with his fingers. “Thank you though.”

Levi had woken up feeling a bit more determined to fix his draft, but he only had a week, which wasn’t a lot. He had to crack on, but he still didn’t know how. He waited for the tea to brew, staring at Eren as he arranged his hair.

Eren caught him looking and smiled.

Do I just accept this, Levi thought. And then he thought, if I do it’s going to get awfully frustrating not being able to touch him, and the thought settled uneasily. Best stick with the task at hand.

“So you’ve read all my books?” Levi asked.

“Not exactly reading. I know them.”

“And the draft as well? Do you like it as well as my other works?”

Eren considered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I think I could,” Eren said. “But it’s not done yet. I’m really looking forward to it though.” He looked so eager, and so trusting that Levi would deliver.

“Well, don’t look over my shoulder when I’m writing,” Levi said. “It’ll put me off if you know every word as soon as I type it.”

“Okay. I’ll wait.”

Levi normally didn’t write in the morning; he was a night-time writer, but he was on a mission today. He took his tea into the dining room and opened the curtains.

“Would you sit where I can see you?” Levi asked.

Eren was only too happy to oblige and he sat on the floor, his back to the wall below a window and his feet in the sun.

Levi fired up his laptop but he didn’t touch the draft, still as he’d left it the morning before. Instead he opened a new document, and started to describe his muse. He didn’t set out to document what happened, but he didn’t avoid it either, just concentrating on getting it down. He wasn’t sure he’d ever tried to describe another person like this, and he found himself frustrated with the process. Eren didn’t seem to come from anywhere; he looked wholesome and boyish in the sunlight, but he’d walked, kept pace with Levi in the dark and Levi tried to explain this, inventing and discarding backstories.

By lunchtime he had pages.

When he stood up, Eren asked him how it was going. Levi was non-committal. He couldn’t put any of this in the book; it just wouldn’t fit. Besides, he already had a plot and it didn’t involve muses. The protagonist wasn’t an artist.

He read over his work after lunch. He noticed he’d described Eren’s eyes as ‘fathomless’ and was fucking relieved no one was ever going to see it, Eren included. Eren especially. Nevertheless, he found himself polishing it, fixing things until he was tired of looking at the screen.

The next day he did chores. And he talked.

Levi never talked a lot; it was ingrained in him to think twice and speak once, but there was nothing to lose from speaking to Eren. Who else could he tell? He started off by explaining why he cleaned things in a certain way, and Eren seemed interested, despite being an entity unable to clean. He followed Levi about, skipping over the vacuum cleaner cord and popping up on his toes to assure him that he'd got all the dust off surfaces too high for Levi to see.

From cleaning to writing, because that was why Eren was here, after all, and Eren had more to say then. He was the perfect reader; he'd missed none of Levi's nuances, and his questions were always the right ones.

And from writing, to Levi himself. He couldn't seem to stop; his hands busy, words pouring out. Where he was from, what he'd done, what he hadn't, and Eren was silent again, curled small by the wall, just listening.

“And I just want-” The words ended then, his voice worn thin and reedy. Want. What did he want? He looked at Eren, who met his eyes with a calm, clear expression.

Levi straightened up and went to rinse out the dusting cloth, and Eren kept his distance, waiting for Levi to say he was going for a walk.

“Come with me,” he said. Eren didn't reply, but he did smile, a bit smug. Yeah, he was nearly there; just had to shake it loose.

It was late afternoon when they left, and Levi walked until he was hungry and had dinner at some awful greasy hamburger joint, but Eren was sitting opposite him in the booth, fluorescent lights doing nothing to dim the colour in his eyes, and it didn't taste so bad.

They kept walking afterwards, Levi's steps swift, like he was trying to make a train, a faint frown on his face. He came to a halt miles from home, staring at an overpass describing an arc over the foreshortened horizon.

“He didn't want anything,” he said. “That's why the plot didn't work.”

“And now?” Eren asked softly, his hands in his pockets.

Levi looked at him. “He wants something.” Just didn't know it existed. It might not exist anyway. That didn't matter so much in Levi's novels. “I need to rewrite the whole thing,” Levi said with dawning realisation. “Fuck! Wasted days already.” He turned and started stomping home, but he wasn't really upset; it was thrilling to finally have a way forward.

“Make me go to bed at three,” he told Eren as he flung his coat off. “I still need to sleep.”

“I will.” Eren said as Levi went to make tea.

“It's three,” Eren said later, having patiently spent the hours between flopped on the floor. “How's it going?”

Levi looked up from his laptop. “Fine,” he said. “I think it's fine.”

“I can't wait to read it.”

Levi went to bed. He got up the next morning and kept writing. He had a deadline; normal writing times be dammed.

Eren kept out of his way; Levi supposed his part was over, it was up to him now. He wanted to write something that would impress his muse, his perfect reader. He gutted his draft, carving it up into chunks worth saving, rewriting and writing anew and his protagonist was done merely surviving. He _wanted_.

He wouldn't get. But Levi kept his eren.doc open anyway, and occasionally he'd look at it. Maybe his next protagonist would be luckier.

He wrote through the night again, hard up against the deadline, but he saw the sun rise and he was making coffee when Hange came in.

“Is it finished?” Hange asked, blinking in surprise as Levi handed them a mug.

“No,” Levi smiled. “It's just a draft. But I'll give you a copy.” He'd already printed one out. He didn't really care too much if Hange liked it; _he_ liked it, and he hoped Eren would too.

Hange followed him back into the dining room, picking up the stack of printed pages, neatly clipped together, flicking to the back to see how long it was. Levi was looking at Eren's spot on the floor.

He hadn't seen him these last couple of days that he recalled, but it was a bit of a blur. Surely-

He turned, looking around the room, but there was no sign of him, just eren.doc still open on his desktop.

“I'll give it a read and let you know,” Hange was saying, and something else about sales and marketing that Levi wasn't listening to.

He didn't find it in himself to be surprised, as he let Hange take him to lunch, after he'd tidied up his workspace. Eren had done his job; there was no reason for him to hang around, if he'd ever really existed in the first place.

“I might dedicate this one,” Levi said, as he locked his front door behind them.

“Oh, to who?” Hange looked at him curiously.

“The muse.”

Hange sighed. “Well that's boring.”

“Yeah,” Levi bowed his head. It really was.


	2. Chapter 2

Eren sat cross-legged on the bench, humming along as he picked out notes on his guitar. Okay, that scanned all right. He leaned forward and scribbled down another line on the notebook resting open near his knee on the worn wood. It was a nice day, and Eren thought he looked pretty good; if anyone came up to say hello he had a few fliers to give out, although mostly people left him to it.

He took it from the top, singing along, still feeling his way through the notes as he ran through the lyrics on the page.

“Bullshit, you can do better than that.” The voice was deep and unfamiliar and startlingly close to his ear.

Eren was thoroughly startled. He may or may not have screamed a little to see a complete stranger peering over his shoulder with a face like a thundercloud and a pair of bare arms that looked like they could bench-press a truck.

“Fuck!” Eren couldn’t get his legs uncrossed fast enough as he tried to get away, and he tumbled onto the ground, his guitar clasped protectively against his chest. “Don’t sneak up on people like that.”

The stranger was dressed in what appeared to be a white sheet draped around his body and very little else.

“Did you come from a toga party?” Eren asked. He didn’t look or smell inebriated, and it was two in the afternoon, but this was college and Eren had learned not to question these things.

“I'm your muse,” the stranger said. “You can call me Levi. We both know the songs you've been writing lately have been shit, and I'm here to help you get back on track.”

“Who says?” Eren replied indignantly, scrambling to his feet. “Did Jean put you up to this? Because it’s not funny.” This guy looked a bit too old to be a college student, but that didn’t mean anything. His clothing, or lack of it, was starting to put Eren off a bit, however. There was something weird about all this, although the guy didn’t look like he was going to leap over the bench and attack him at least. He just looked annoyed.

“I’m not making a joke. I’m here to help you. You know the songs you’ve written recently aren’t that good. Or are you going to argue with me?”

Eren got to his feet, scowling. “Follow up albums are always hard,” he said. “And I've been really busy, and we have to organise the tour and most of the songs are fine, they just need polishing and what business is it of yours anyway?” He tried to get in Levi's face but he wasn't quite game to actually touch him or move so there wasn't a park bench between them.

“I'm your muse. Helping you create is what I do,” Levi said. “There's no point making shitty excuses to me.” He folded his arms, and Eren dropped his gaze for a moment.

“This is dumb,” Eren said, snatching up his notebook. “I don’t care who you are or if it’s a joke or something, just piss off.”

He stooped to grab his bag, and as he did so he realised that the stranger’s muscled legs ended in bare feet about six inches off the ground.

This guy was really fucking short, his brain supplied helpfully, skidding over the nonsensical part about him _floating._

“How are you doing that?” Eren asked, intrigued despite himself. He pointed at Levi’s feet. Levi didn’t appear to be touching the bench so he couldn’t be holding himself up by his arms.

Levi shrugged, and Eren’s eyes widened as he drifted a bit closer, around the end of the bench, his feet unmoving.

“I’m a muse.”

Like that was an answer.

“What, like in the Greek myth?” Eren asked. He reached out, attempting to push Levi off his invisible stilts but he simply floated up out of the way, the gap between his feet and the ground widening apparently effortlessly.

Eren gaped. It was a bit hard to start denying the existence of the person you’d just been talking to, and he glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed the phenomenon. There were plenty of people out and about, but none of them were paying any attention to Levi.

“Can anyone else see you?” Eren asked, and his heart sank when Levi shook his head. Well that was convenient; he’d looked like he was arguing with himself for the past five minutes. “So you really are a muse?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Okay,” Eren stepped forward and spread his arms. “Prove it! Fill me with your uh, divine inspiration.”

Levi actually looked amused. It wasn’t much, just a tightening of facial muscles and a raised eyebrow but Eren found himself trying not to smile back.

“That’s not quite how it works. I’m here to help but you have to do the work.”

Eren sighed. “Are they really that bad? The new songs I mean.”

Levi floated closer, coming back down so he was at eye level. “You can do better.”

Eren shoved his notebook in his bag and slung it over one shoulder, his guitar going over the other.

“Yeah well, I could do better once at least. Are you going to follow me to class?”

“Would you rather I didn’t?”

“Yeah. You’re kind of distracting.” And he was pretty sure his friends would notice if he kept looking at invisible floating people.

“Very well.” And Levi was gone. It was like he’d blinked or looked away for a second and he’d simply ceased to exist. Eren surreptitiously pinched the back of his hand. It didn’t look like he was dreaming.

Nevertheless, he’d almost convinced himself it _had_ been a dream by the time he got home that evening. Jean had work and Armin was tutoring, and so he was looking forward to having the house to himself for a couple of hours and maybe having a wank over the thought of his imaginary muse’s spectacular biceps.

“You should clean this place up,” Levi said, arms folded, hovering in the hallway like the Ghost of Toga Parties Past, as soon as Eren got in the door.

Eren jumped a little and made sure the door was closed before replying.

“You sound like Armin when we've got a house inspection. Who are you to order me about anyway?”

“I’m your muse. And you find doing mindless chores helps you come up with songs. More importantly, this place is a mess.”

“It’s not that bad,” Eren muttered. He went to his room, Levi following him like his own personal thundercloud.

“You haven’t put away your clean laundry and the floor needs vacuuming.”

“I know. I’ve been busy. And it’s Jean’s turn to do floors. And stop poking around my stuff.”

“You’ll feel better once it’s done. Clean house; clean mind.”

“Ugh,” Eren said with feeling. He dumped his gear and took off his shoes, and went into the kitchen to find something to eat. He supposed the dishes were piling up. “I don’t imagine you’re going to help,” he told Levi.

He shrugged. “I would if I could.” He sounded so sincere Eren forgave him a little. Just a little.

He unforgave him again once he started actually washing up, and Levi kept up a running commentary on bits he’d missed and how to avoid getting streaks on the glassware.

How did my life come to this in one day, Eren wondered, being nagged by a figment of my own imagination.

Only, he couldn’t convince himself he’d invented Levi. He was just too weird.

Levi had fallen silent by the time Eren moved to dry up, and as he always did Eren filled the silence with his own voice, singing some of his earlier songs from their first album. The ones he really was proud of.

When he got to the chorus he nearly dropped the plate he was holding when Levi joined in. He had a nice voice, and when Eren glanced up at him his expression was softer than he’d seen it so far. He’s not grumpy all the time, Eren thought.

“You know all the words,” Eren said.

“Of course I do.” He looked surprised that he’d even asked.

“Even the obscure stuff?”

“All of it.”

Eren took that as a challenge, and once the dishes were done he started on his laundry, singing all the while. Levi didn’t miss a note, although he always fell silent for Eren’s solo verses. Eren tried to get him to dance along, shaking his hips like he was on stage, but that was apparently a bridge too far, although Levi paid him close, and flattering, attention.

It was fun, and Levi’s voice made the songs sound new and different.

They were belting out ‘Cruelty,’ an upbeat song at odds with its bleak lyrics, when Armin came home. At the sound of the front door closing, they fell silent. Armin wandered in and stared at Eren.

“What are you doing?” he asked, totally ignoring Levi, which Eren supposed proved he couldn’t be seen.

“Uh. Vacuuming?”

“Wow you’ve done the dishes as well,” Armin said as he peered into the kitchen. “Isn’t it Jean’s turn?”

“I was on a roll,” Eren said, slightly out of breath. He turned off the vacuum cleaner, silently daring Levi to say anything about not quite finishing the job as he did so.

“How are the new songs going?” Armin asked.

He’d been prepared to give his usual spiel, but it was harder to lie with Levi looking at him.

“I’m not feeling great about them, honestly. I really want to give Mikasa something to sing in Japanese, but mine isn’t that good. Even aside from that, they feel a bit,” he paused. “Try-hard.”

Armin frowned. “We were going to debut the new stuff at the next gig. Have you changed your mind? We need to start rehearsing soon if we’re going ahead.”

“I know. I don’t want to let you guys down. I’m working on it.”

“Hey, don’t force yourself. Our fans like our stuff and we haven’t made any promises.”

“Mm. We’ll see.”

He talked with Armin a bit more, and Levi politely removed himself and was waiting in Eren’s room when he went in.

“You were right,” Eren said quietly, flopping down on the bed. “The old stuff is a lot better.” He smiled nevertheless. “That was fun; you sing pretty well. Shame you don’t dance.”

“Thank you.”

“It doesn’t really help write new songs though, does it?”

Levi shrugged.

Eren put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. Eventually Levi floated into his line of sight, looking down at him gravely.

“You’re pretty hot,” Eren said, his tongue looser than it would have been if Levi had been a normal person. “Are there any rules against fraternising with your clients?”

“I don’t have clients,” Levi said, looking down at him. Eren couldn't read his expression. “I’m your muse, no one else’s.”

“Where do you come from?”

Levi shrugged. “I can’t answer that. Does it matter?”

“It’s only totally reordering my whole view of the universe so yeah, I think so.”

Levi sighed. “I can’t give you any answers. I just help you create.”

“Why me? I’m just another guy with a guitar. Are my songs really that special?”

“Yes,” Levi said, without hesitation.

Eren felt himself flush, unsure how to respond. “Oh.”

“You know they’re special. If you really thought you were just another guy with a guitar you wouldn’t pour so much of yourself into it,” Levi continued. “Nothing wrong with a hobby, but this means more to you, and it comes through in your songs.”

Eren rolled himself up into a sitting position.

“I wrote most of the songs in high school,” he side. “It just felt like the only way out after Mom died. Sing it all out. Things are better now. I don't argue with Dad the way I used to; I guess cause he won the argument. I did end up going to college. But everything's fine now.”

“Is it?” Levi asked.

Before Eren could answer Armin called from the kitchen, asking if Eren had any preferences for dinner. By the time Eren had answered, Levi had disappeared.

Eren felt a bit disappointed, but he did have study he was supposed to be doing, and he didn't want Levi to start nagging him about that as well. He wondered when he'd see him again.

Levi didn't show up until the evening of the following day, when the band got together to rehearse for their next gig. By the time they'd finished setting up and tuning their instruments, Levi was leaning against the wall, arms folded, expressionless.

Eren thought muses were supposed to be a little less off-putting.

Nevertheless, Levi unwound when they started playing, nodding his head or mouthing along occasionally. It was hard to put on a good performance, because rehearsal wasn't performance, as they stopped between songs and replayed bits that weren't quite right and Jean wanted to know where the new music was.

Eren said it wasn't ready.

“Dude it's been months. We've got to play in a few weeks, and we don't have anything new to show for it.”

“We've got plenty of old material. We didn't promise anyone we'd be playing something new.” Armin tried to keep the peace.

“You promised Mikasa you'd write her something though,” Jean said victoriously. “You're just going to give up on that?” He flicked a glance at her, obviously hoping she'd appreciated his arguments on her behalf.

She didn't, of course, because Mikasa didn't need anyone to fight her battles, but it irritated Eren nevertheless, because he _did_ want to write her something.

“I don't mind,” Mikasa said. “Eren should write what he wants.”

Jean looked like he was going to push it for a few moments and then he backed down. “I'm just saying, people are gonna expect more.”

“I know, alright? I'm working on it.” Eren scowled, and he threw Levi an irritated glance as well. Fat lot of good it was having a muse so far.

Levi met his gaze, cool as anything. Challenging maybe. Eren's stomach lurched and he turned his back on him before his face could give anything away.

“You're no use at all,” Eren grumbled during a break. The others had gone to get food and Jean had joked Eren could write something while they were gone. “You're supposed to inspire me and you're not doing anything. In fact, you're just distracting me. Bad or not, at least I was writing songs before you showed up.” Eren knew he was trying to get a rise out of him, but really what could Levi do if his talent really had run dry?

Levi looked at him for a long moment, and Eren set his jaw and glared back.

Levi walked over. Actually put his feet on the ground and prowled across the distance separating them, stepping over electrical cords. Suddenly he seemed a lot more solid.

“You're complacent,” Levi said. “You think this is success, playing to a packed pub, that this is all it takes to thumb your nose at your father. You think because you're pretty you can make it.”

“You think I'm-”

“Who gives a fuck what you look like?” Levi snarled. “Your songs used to be honest. You told the truth about the world; that is is both beautiful and cruel, and that is why I am your muse. And that is why you could make people _kneel_ at your feet, and that is why you should be ashamed of yourself for giving up.”

“I haven't given up!”

“Haven't you? You're going to college, like your father wanted.”

“You want me to drop out?”

“I don't want anything from you. What do you want?”

“It's almost impossible to make it in this industry. It would be foolish to-” he broke off as he heard the others coming back.

“Fight, Eren,” Levi said, refusing to look away, despite the noise behind him. “I know you have it in you, regardless of how difficult it will get.”

Levi left then, floating out through the wall, leaving Eren staring after him. He'd remembered writing Cruelty in a fit of grief, mouthing the words in his bedroom because if he voiced them he'd howl.

He wasn't grieving any more. Not the way he once did. What did he want? Levi said he could make the crowd kneel, if he wanted, and the thought was dizzying.

He wondered if he could make Levi kneel, and he slid his finger down a guitar string, making it yowl like an angry cat. He'd decided he wanted to write something for Mikasa in a dutiful sort of way, with half a mind on Jean's insistence that Japan was cool and it would make them cool to include some Japanese lyrics.

What he really wanted.

What he'd really wanted was to seduce his muse the way he'd accidentally seduced people in high school; he'd been baffled and somewhat disconcerted by the attention at the time as he'd been angry and sad, not looking to get laid or have his heart magically mended.

He plucked at the guitar strings absently, while the others unpacked the Chinese food they'd brought back.

Something to ask Levi, later, he thought, as Armin called him over to eat.

Levi refused to be summoned. Hissing his name had no effect, but he reappear when Eren left his breakfast dishes in the sink to remind him to rinse them first.

“You're pretty weird for a muse,” Eren said, turning on the tap.

“You know many do you?” He seemed like he was in a good mood at least.

“Just one,” Eren said. He glanced over his shoulder. “And I've got a bone to pick with you about your technique. You could try being a bit nicer. Use positive motivation.”

Levi raised his eyebrows.

“You know, like, traditionally muses did.” Eren was running out of courage for this conversation.

“Oh.” Levi was floating, like he usually was, and now he sort of drifted back to sit on the kitchen table, and very deliberately crossed his legs, one bent up so the cloth fell away from his thigh. He smiled faintly. “Is that what you wanted?”

Eren stared at the gap between Levi's legs and then hissed and turned away when he realised that he'd left the hot water on, and steam was rising out of the sink.

“Yeah, that'll do,” he said, sounding choked.

Levi made an amused noise and oh, that was even better than the show. “I hope you're feeling motivated then,” he said into Eren's ear, and when Eren turned, heart pounding, he'd gone.

“Fuckshit,” Eren said. He had to come up with something now, or Levi probably wouldn't play that game again. He texted Armin, who'd left early, to say he was skipping their tutorials today.

He didn't go to the park. He wanted privacy this time, he didn't want to feel constrained by what other people might hear as part of the creative process. So he stayed in his room, like he had as a teenager, and sang about wanting.

Sometimes he got the impression Levi was watching, or at least present, but he never showed himself, and Eren wasn't sure if he was there or not. Or if he was real. He couldn't be touched, couldn't be lived with.

Want but can't have. Ever.

Eren bared his teeth and howled.

A couple of days later, he was doing the washing up and an idea for song he tentatively dubbed 'I Can't Speak Japanese (But I Promised You I'd Learn)' floated into his head, and he called Mikasa and she laughed and they decided to work on the lyrics together- a duet in good Japanese and bad.

It was that easy.

Actually it was exhausting, and Eren was now determined to debut at least some of the new material at their next gig, so he poked and prodded the band into extra rehearsals, and always his eyes were on the corners of the room.

He deliberately placed his unwashed dishes in the sink.

He addressed Levi in the privacy of the shower, in the car, in his head, and he raged and wrote his next song a little bit heartbroken and tried to tell himself that he'd imagined the whole thing.

He couldn't really be angry at Levi. As he listened back to the new songs, he knew he'd been lucky to have met him, whatever he was, and that he owed him a great debt.

Art wasn't always hard, as evidenced by the way 'I Can't Speak Japanese' came together with such ease and good humour, the siblings hamming it up while Armin and Jean tried not to laugh audibly while they were recording, but it did have to be genuine.

Once again, Eren couldn't wait to get out on stage, his whole being humming with anticipation as the date approached. Maybe, maybe if he performed well enough, his muse would come back, just for one last performance.

He'd written most of it for him, after all.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Hange had liked the draft. Levi supposed that was better than the alternative.

They were in the revision cycle now. Levi was an easy author to work with, or so he was told; he rarely argued with the editor, and the kind of language he used precluded a lot of grammarian fussiness. Mostly, Levi found it boring. His first revision had been the biggest one, fixing the problems that inevitably arose when one wrote a good portion of a novel in a week.

Now he was waiting for feedback on his second.

He could already feel his next novel approaching, a feeling similar to putting one’s ear to the tracks and sensing a distant train. It was too early to board yet; he just had to wait and let it come to him.

So he walked, like he usually did, at night.

He wasn’t really expecting to see Eren, no matter how many times he looked twice at young men who might have been him. Shit just happened, whether you wanted it to or not, and at least he didn’t regret the week he’d spent in Eren’s company.

He always preferred new places to retreading his old footsteps, and one night his feet took him past a pub, base throbbing out through the open door. Head down and hurry on was what he usually did; he avoided trouble now that he wasn’t being paid to look for it.

He walked through a gust of warm, beery air and noise, and heard a howl that threatened to break the speakers, and Levi’s footsteps faltered as he paused to listen.

Not bad, he thought.

There was a sign next to the entrance. Maria Has Fallen were playing tonight, but the name meant nothing to Levi. If they were playing here, the name probably meant nothing to most people. There was something about the music that called to him, however, and after a few moments more, Levi paid the door charge and went in.

He couldn’t really see the stage. The room was packed, and the last thing he wanted to do was fight his way through a sweaty crowd of young people, all jumping in time to the music. So he stayed at the back, where the old and the sensible were, but his height meant he caught nothing more than the odd glimpse of the bassist, a girl with dark hair.

She sung nicely, but Levi felt most moved by the unseen lead singer, the source of the howl that had made him stop in the first place. Levi didn't know much about music, but he thought this band might go places someday. Levi listened to the whole set, despite the atmosphere making him want to scrub his skin off, and he walked home thoughtfully, his head full of music.

The first thing he did when he got home was have a shower, and then he got online to listen to the rest of the band’s output and get a look at them.

And there he was.

Levi stared at the screen, Eren’s picture gazing back with an air of slightly self-conscious nonchalance, surrounded by his bandmates. Was it him? It had to be; he’d never forget those eyes, but it didn’t make any sense. Further online investigations uncovered various social media accounts, mostly related to the band, and the life of a talented but otherwise perfectly believable and real young man.

Levi listened to more of his music, trying to work out if he’d heard it before somewhere, dreamed his muse out of a half-remembered song, but none of it was familiar.

What do I do now, he wondered, putting the album on to play again. The song he’d heard that had first drawn him the pub wasn’t on it, but there were tweets about new material.

Levi wanted to hear that song again. He’d missed half of it, after all.

It would come out eventually. He didn’t have to do or say anything, but he owed to his muse, to himself, to try.

He’d wanted. Enough with the passive protagonists, he thought wryly as he opened up his email.

  
  


_ Dear Eren, _

_ I only discovered your music tonight, but I am already a fan. _

_ I wrote a book. Please read it. _

  
  


_ Levi _

  
  


It was the worst email he’d ever written. It made it sound like he wasn’t a published writer, that he just sent off manuscripts to people he didn’t know. He was embarrassed to even read over it, but he knew in his heart of hearts that he’d just make it worse if he tried to fix it. He attached the latest version of the manuscript and sent it before he could think better of it.

He probably wouldn’t read it, Levi told himself.

Even if he read the email he probably wouldn’t read the novel. Who would? That would be ridiculous. He should just forget it ever happened.

Levi didn’t sleep that night, but he tried.

  
  


_ Hi, _

_ I read your book last night. I love it! I couldn’t put it down and I’m going to go and buy all your other ones. I can’t wait to read them. _

_ This might sound weird and you don’t have to if you don’t want to but would you sign them for me? I’d like to meet you. _

  
  


_ Yours sincerely, _

_ Eren _

  
  


Levi had to read the email about five times before it really sunk in. He supposed he should thank Hange for forcing him to add an automatic signature to his emails with a link to his publishing page; he’d entirely forgotten about it.

He wondered why Eren had come home from a concert and immediately started reading; even the most dedicated answerer of fan-mail would have waited until the next day, surely, but Levi wasn’t complaining.

He started composing a reply.

Eren might well have been refreshing his inbox given the speed at which he responded, and thus Levi found himself getting off a bus that afternoon and walking to the cafe they’d agreed on. He’d half expected Eren wouldn’t really be _his_ Eren, but there was no mistaking the figure sitting at one of the tables, his nose in Levi’s first novel, the cover still shiny and unmarked.

Eren forgot about the book when Levi walked up, however, practically jumping to his feet and staring at him. Levi could only stare back.

“So! Um, just-” Eren reached out, somewhat shyly, and touched the back of Levi’s hand. Levi didn’t pull back, even though Eren’s fingers felt like fire.

“You’re real,” Levi said.

“Yeah.” Eren grinned. “So are you.”

They stayed like that for a few moments more and then pulled their hands away.

“Anyway-”

“So I should-

“Yeah.”

After some excruciating verbal fumbling Levi went to order a cup of tea and rejoined Eren at his table. Eren was frowning and biting his lip when Levi returned.

“Can I say something weird?” he asked.

Levi was prepared to listen to anything Eren might have to say, and relieved that Eren was happy to start the conversation, because he had absolutely no idea where to begin.

Eren ran his finger up and down the side of his cup for a few moments, before taking a breath.

“You know about muses, right?”

 

 


End file.
